Hide'n'Seek
by ZombieToGo
Summary: The team is hired by a federal agent to protect an important witness, but there might be more at stake than they realize. Some secrets are worth killing for.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: A 'Random Idea' that crossed my mind, something of a Heroes crossover. Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

**Hide and Seek - Chapter One**

_**Bakersfield, CA**_

"I haven't been able to track her down," Hector Vasquez said with a frown. He reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a photograph that he placed on the table facedown and pushed across to Hannibal. A waitress passed holding a pot of coffee in one hand, making her way to a booth at the far end of the greasy spoon. Besides the other table the diner was empty of empty of customers.

"How long ago did she go to ground?" Hannibal asked when the waitress was out of earshot. He picked up the photo and gave it a cursory glance before tucking it into his pocket.

"Two weeks ago. We know that Ortega's hired hitmen haven't found her either, because they're still looking for her as hard as we are."

"What did she do? Prior to becoming your witness that is," Hannibal asked.

The waitress, having refilled the only other occupied table, made her way back to Hannibal and Hector. She smiled at the men and began to pour them another round of the bitter tasting brew offered by the kitchen. Neither of the men spoke until she was gone, returning to the counter where another waitress was refilling sticky ketchup bottles.

"She's a nurse. Worked in an ER for the last six years," Hector saw the bemused expression that crossed Hannibal's face. He sighed. There was no point in arguing about it. "I know. A nurse has the FBI at a loss. I don't know how she's managed to stump us all, but I don't hold out faith in her luck."

"Do you have any idea who the mole is?"

Hector's face darkened. He shifted uncomfortably in the booth. "Not yet. But I will find them. They got three good men who were with her at the safe house killed."

"Once we find her Agent Vasquez what would you like us to do with her?"

"Keep her safe, at least until I can sort out our – leak, in the department." A grim smile twisted Hector's face. It was a look the waitress caught and sent a shiver through her body. Later she would take the tip left on their table and stuff it into the charity jar by the register.

"Any particular place?"

Hector shook his head. "Wherever. The important thing is that no federal agent knows where it is. Not even me. When we get this mole I'll be in contact so you can bring her back in."

"You know," Hannibal said, leaning back in the booth and fixing his attention on Hector, "if I was her I would be having second thoughts about testifying."

"Then she'll spend the rest of her life being hunted by Ortega's hired guns. And it won't be a long life."

.-.-.-.

Hector left first, leaving Hannibal alone in the diner. He finished the bitter tasting coffee with barely a grimace, staring at the US15 with its snarl of north bound traffic. This job would pay well but the risk would run high. The colonel leaned back, took the photo from the breast pocket of his jacket and looked at it again. After a moment he sighed and returned the photo to his pocket.

Glancing around he saw the waitresses were giggling over their chores. Upon his departure the federal agent had paid the bill, leaving the wrinkled cash tucked under the salt shaker. Hannibal added another dollar to the meager tip then slipped out of the booth.

Outside he was struck by the savage heat of the California desert. The rental car he'd picked up for the drive to Bakersfield was baking in the sun. Hannibal opened the door and instantly regretted he hadn't left the windows open. The car rumbled into life as he turned the keys in the ignition. He winced as he touched the steering wheel, the sun baked vinyl burning his fingers. He reached for the AC control, turning it on full before pulling his cell phone from his pocket.

"Face? … Get the guys together. We have a job."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: A 'Random Idea' that crossed my mind, something of a Heroes crossover. Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

**Hide and Seek - Chapter Two**

_**Venice Beach, CA**_

"Damn Face, how'd you afford a place like this?"

With a crooked grin Face looked up from the fridge to see B.A. disappearing onto the balcony. Shaking his head Face grabbed two beers from the door in one hand, his fingers closing around the slender necks of the cold glass bottles. From the balcony B.A. chucked, bemused by the crowds passing on the boardwalk below. Face pried the caps from the beers, tossing them into the trash where they jingled against the remains of several other bottles, and joined his friend outside.

B.A. seized the offered beer, taking a deep swig from the bottle while keeping an eye on a trio of bikini clad women strolling by. Face leaned one arm against the railing, squinting against the bright sun. He sipped at his own beer. Beyond the boardwalk the beach stretched out, the golden sand pounded by the push and pull of the ocean which itself ran to the horizon. The azure Pacific sparkled under the southern Californian sun which itself was slipping from the sky.

"Come on man," B.A. said, jogging Face back to the moment with a gentle nudge. "How you pay for this?"

"How's the beer?" Face asked trying to change the topic. B.A. shook his head, laughing off the distraction. Face took another drink.

"I was walking by and – dropped in to take tour of the model condos. Apparently they mistook for me for the new on-site sales manager," Face explained. He shrugged, straightening and turning his back to the ocean vista. "Let's just say that I didn't discourage the assumption."

"You gonna get caught," B.A. said pointing the mouth of his beer at Face. But there was gentle humor in the big man's expression and Face laughed. He clapped B.A. on the shoulder.

"Nothing I can't talk my way out of," Face assured him. He nodded in the direction of the open door and went back inside the air condition condo. As a model home it was completely furnished, and as Face had picked out everything himself, it was sleek, tasteful and expensive. B.A. took a seat on the leather sectional, sinking the depths with a happy sigh.

"So, where is the big man?" B.A. asked.

Face glanced to his watch. "He said six, but that he had to pick something up first."

"Murdock?"

"No, he's already here. But he went out to torment the performance artists."

"Crazy fool."

.-.-.-.

"Murdock?"

Hannibal stopped in mid-step, quickly adjusting his balance to keep from falling into a family of tourists who were gawking at the spectacle. The colonel stepped back and joined the crowd. At the center of their focus were two men. The first man, with black spandex stretched over a mind-boggling amount of muscles was balancing a metal folding chair on his chin. Seated on the chair, with a large grin plastered to his face, was H.M. Murdock.

At the sight of Hannibal the captain raised one hand and waved eagerly. Hannibal winced as the man balancing the chair and Murdock, was suddenly struggling with the shift in weight. For his own part Murdock seemed oblivious to the danger.

The crowd gasped and more than one person cried out. Hannibal wanted to close his eyes but didn't. With the leg of a folding chair wobbling on his chin the man was in no position to tell Murdock to stop moving around.

"Colonel!" Murdock waved again as though Hannibal had failed to notice him the first time. And finally Hannibal did close his eyes as more than a few people in the crowd started staring at him. A large shout erupted from the spectators and it was followed by the clatter of metal on the concrete. Hannibal's eyes flew open to see Murdock jogging over to greet him. Behind him, clutching at his jaw, the street performer was rocking on his knees. The chair lay on its back a few feet away.

"Did you see that Colonel?" Murdock asked. Hannibal grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away from the scene. Most of the crowd was breaking apart and were going their separate ways but a few had rushed to the aid of the performer.

"I saw it," Hannibal said rushing Murdock along. He could see the glass and steel building that was their destination rising above the boardwalk. It was beautifully modern and completely out of place among Venice's mostly concrete and wood buildings.

"I didn't think it was possible," Murdock said following easily. "I said it might be dangerous, but he said he knew what he was doing."

"I don't think you were supposed to move." Hannibal glanced back at Murdock who was considering what he had just heard. A look of understanding flowed into Murdock's face and his pace slowed. Gently Hannibal took him by the shoulder and steered the captain ahead of him.

.-.-.-.

"Pretty," Face declared looking at the photograph Hannibal had passed to him. He smiled and passed it to B.A. then turned to Hannibal. "So, what's the job?"

"It would seem the FBI has lost their star witness against John Ortega." Hannibal said. He tapped the manila folder he'd brought along.

"Ortega? The drug kingpin from Tijuana?" Face asked incredulously with a beer halfway to his lips. Hannibal nodded and opened the envelope, ripping the flap open and pulling out the papers. He dropped the stack on the dining room table.

"The very same," Hannibal said. "A month ago one of Ortega's ex-partners was ready to turn evidence against him in a plea bargain. It was the first break the fed's had after six years. While he was in protective custody a gallstone attack put him in the hospital, and there, Ortega himself slipped past security and murdered the man. It was witnessed by Miss Rachael Strathmore, a nurse."

"So, how did the FBI lose her?" B.A. asked. He handed the photograph to Murdock who glanced at it then began whispering to it. B.A. glared at him and Murdock grinned back, holding the picture to his ear.

"Ortega has a mole working in the FBI who leaked the location of Miss Strethmore's safehouse to him. Three agents were murdered and the witness … is gone," Hannibal said.

"Gone? Who's to say Ortega doesn't have her?" Face asked.

"The agent in charge of the case informed me that his men are still looking for her as well." Hannibal replied.

"So, we find her and hand her back to the fed's?" B.A. asked.

"No. We are responsible for finding her then keeping her safe until the leak is sorted out, or the trial begins. The FBI is keen to ensure Miss Strathmore lives to see trial. A murder conviction will keep Ortega away a lot longer than the drug charges and money laundering they originally pinned to him," Hannibal told the group. He looked at the faces of his men gathered at the dining room table. The case seemed easy but he felt apprehensive about it. "Well? What do you boys say?"

Face shrugged and leaned back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. "It's just babysitting, should be easy enough."

"If her testimony can put a drug dealer away then I'm in," B.A. said. They all looked to Murdock who was fidgeting in his chair.

"Murdock?" Hannibal asked when the man didn't answer right away.

"I think I've figured out how that chair trick works. I just need a folding chair," he said.

"No, Murdock – this case," Face said with minor exasperation. "Are you in?"

"Well, o'course," Murdock said drawled. "She can sit in the chair."

Hannibal reached for his beer and finally sat down at the table. He swallowed a mouthful while B.A. was muttering and looking balefully in Murdock's direction. Hannibal grinned and picked up the papers he'd brought along.

"So boss, what's the plan?" Face asked taking his copy.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: A 'Random Idea' that crossed my mind, something of a Heroes crossover. Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

**Hide and Seek - Chapter Three**

_**Venice Beach, CA**_

Hannibal rubbed at his temple where a promising headache was settling in. The table was stacked with papers and before him on a yellow notepad were scrawled his notes. A cup of coffee that had cooled hours ago sat haphazardly on a coaster. More than a few pieces of paper were sporting coffee rings.

It seemed impossible that a person could drop off the face of the planet. There were ways, Hannibal was more intimately acquainted with them then he might wish considering the position of his men and himself. Those ways required skills that nurses didn't know. Or Hannibal conceded with a sigh, that they shouldn't know. But Rachael Strathmore had disappeared.

There was a small army searching for her. Hannibal and his men had been chasing leads for a week. The FBI was still performing a search for her, but he had his own opinions of their effectiveness. And then there were the hired hands of John Ortega who, denied bail, was somehow directing his search from a federal petitionary. Still Rachael eluded them all. She had found a good hiding place and he couldn't blame her for not coming out.

But it was making his job harder.

Hannibal lifted the mug and sipped at the coffee, a little surprised to find it was no longer hot. He downed the remains in a few gulps. Carrying the mug Hannibal stood and retreated to the kitchen. They were still using Face's luxury condo. Face had protested a little as Hannibal had started pinning up maps and notes to the dining room wall. The unit was supposed to be a model to potential buyers, but Face had been omitting it from his tours.

In the kitchen Hannibal opened the canister of coffee. The smell alone was enough to revive him and he added a few generous spoonful's to the paper filter. While the machine began to brew, the hot water trickling slowly into the pot, Hannibal stepped onto the balcony.

The team had made visits to her parents and Hannibal had found them rather stiff and formal. They were concerned for their daughter but seemed to hold her at length. But they had no idea where she might have gone. After her parents they had paid visits to the hospital where she'd worked. Her co-workers had viewed the men with open suspicion and only the head nurse answered any of their questions. Rachael had been a hard worker the matronly woman informed them, popular with other nurses and gentle with patients. But she hadn't an idea where Rachael might have gone. Neither did her friends, an ex-boyfriend or her neighbors. Rachael had been smart enough not to go to familiar places, but she had also stopped using her credit cards and bank account.

On the balcony Hannibal found he was looking into the faces of the strangers passing below, searching for Rachael. He sighed and rubbed at his temple again. They had put a lot of hours into this job. And until they located Rachael there wouldn't be payment. Hannibal didn't want to think that was his only concern. After all, there was a young woman probably scared out of her mind being hunted by killers somewhere in the Los Angeles area. And her testimony would put a dangerous man away for a very long time.

From the kitchen the coffee machine gave a beep to signal its completion. Not that it was necessary. Hannibal was drawn back inside by the smell of the finished coffee. He poured himself a cup and returned to the table. And again, he was sitting before his notes, staring at the mass of them and hoping that from them some clue would emerge.

He was still sitting there when B.A. returned an hour later. The big man was grinning in a way that peaked Hannibal's curiosity.

"What is it Sargent?" Hannibal asked, noticing the newspaper clutched in B.A.'s hand. Taking a seat across from Hannibal he opened the newspaper and spread it on the table.

"I heard some people talking about a shooting," B.A. said. He jabbed a thick finger at an article buried at the bottom of the page. What was one more shooting in a city reputed for its violence? "They said a young woman had been chased by two men past Mann's Chinese Theater. They fired at her in the middle of a crowd. Some people thought it was for a movie or something."

Hannibal picked up the paper. The article was accompanied by a photo. It had been taken by a bystander with a cell phone and though it was blurry, it was Rachael. She was frozen as she dodged a few startled tourists, looking over her shoulder with an expression of terror. Quickly he scanned the article but saw no mention that she or her pursuers had been caught or injured. It did however mention that an LAPD police officer had been present on the scene at the time of the shooting.

"Good work B.A.," Hannibal said looking up with a smile. Across the table B.A. beamed.

.-.-.-.

_**Downtown Los Angeles, CA**_

That evening Hannibal perched on a low wall which ran the length of the Los Angeles Police Department. No one paid much attention to the older man reading a newspaper. Hannibal projected such a relaxed image that he simply didn't register to most of the people passing by.

While he appeared to be reading Hannibal was actually observing the men who were coming out of the building. And he regarded those in the navy blue uniform of the street cop more carefully. The newspaper was merely a prop to his performance. In twenty minutes he hadn't once turned a page.

Hannibal didn't wait much longer for the man he had been waiting for. He emerged with a small group of his fellow officers. Like a few others he was carrying a gym bag. His round face was smiling, eyes crinkled with laughter. As the group descended the stairs they began to break apart, heading in separate directions. The officer he'd been waiting to see continued to head in Hannibal's direction in the company of another cop. They were talking, neither paying much attention to Hannibal who folded the paper up and stood. He took a few steps towards the approaching cops. The man glanced at him then looked back to his companion who was speaking. They passed Hannibal, who turned on his heel to follow them.

"Officer Parkman?" Hannibal called. Both of the men stopped, looking over their shoulders. The smile didn't fade from Parkman's face but Hannibal did notice the slight narrowing of his eyes.

"Yes? What can I do for you?" Parkman asked turning to face Hannibal. The other man nudged Parkman then continued walking, giving a brief wave as he parted. Parkman just nodded at him.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions," Hannibal said. "I understand that you were at the scene of an incident last night in Hollywood."

"I'm sorry," Parkman said quickly. He raised a hand to stop Hannibal. "I've already spoken to a reporter about this."

"Officer, this is a matter of life or death," Hannibal said in a softly to avoid arousing attention. The smile disappeared off Parkman's face. He tilted his head and regarded Hannibal with narrow, suspicious eyes. Hannibal was certain the man knew something about Rachael, but he sensed he had to be careful with Parkman.

"I didn't catch your name," Parkman said flatly.

"I'm Hannibal Smith and the woman involved in yesterday's shooting is the witness in an important trial," he said. "Unless my men and I can take her into protective custody her life is in serious danger."

Parkman snorted and shook his head. He turned away from Hannibal and started walking away. For a moment Hannibal was at a loss. He fell into step quickly with the officer. "That's really good. Protective custody. At least the other guys had badges, even if they were bad fakes."

"I'm not joking Officer Parkman," Hannibal said tersely.

"Sure," he said. They were walking down the sidewalk now, approaching the intersection. "Look buddy, I'll tell you the same thing I told the other guys – she was gone before I even got to the scene. A few witnesses gave me a description. One took a picture he gave to a reporter."

_Damnit! Her luck isn't going to last forever_, Hannibal thought.

"The article wasn't entirely accurate, I guess it just goes to show why they're all going out of business" Parkman said with a dismissive wave in the direction of the paper Hannibal was carrying. The light was red and they stopped, Parkman jabbing at the button for the crosswalk. Hannibal could see B.A.'s van parked around the corner.

Hannibal was again at a loss, it seemed he'd come to yet another dead end. The stout cop knew nothing of use. A frown creased Hannibal's face and he prepared to thank Parkman for his time when he became aware that the cop was staring intently at him. After a moment the intensity of Parkman's gaze grew unsettling.

"Offi-"

"South Spring Street, number 1021," Parkman said abruptly. He flashed his teeth in awkward smile. The light changed and he stepped off the curb. Hannibal remained where he was and watched the cop go, expecting the man to turn back and offer some kind of explanation. The light went red and Parkman was across the street without once looking back. Hannibal slapped the paper against his left palm and turned the corner. By the time he reached the van Hannibal was grinning widely.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: A 'Random Idea' that crossed my mind, something of a Heroes crossover. Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

**Hide and Seek - Chapter Four**

_**Downtown Los Angeles, CA**_

The address given by Officer Parkman belonged to a homeless shelter in the downtown L.A. area. They left Face's Venice Beach condo the afternoon following Hannibal's fortunate meeting with the helpful officer. The shelter was housed in a large building that had spent its previous life as a block of office rentals. It flanked by a seedy looking residential hotel and an abandoned bodega that had been boarded up. A few transients lingered on the sidewalk outside the bodega with their sparse belongings crammed into trash bags and shopping carts.

The van cruised slowly down the Spring Street with B.A. at the wheel. In the passenger seat Hannibal inspected the street while Murdock and Face sat in the back. At the end of the block B.A. turned the corner, glancing at the colonel for instruction. Hannibal gestured and he pulled the van to the curb.

"No, I think it's better if I go alone," Hannibal said as, in the back, Face and Murdock began to move for the door.

"Good idea Colonel," Murdock said nodding in agreement with himself.

"Are you sure?" Face asked.

"Let's not scare her any more than necessary," Hannibal said as he stepped onto the street. He leaned back inside. "Call if you see anything suspicious."

Hannibal approached the entrance to the shelter on foot and alone. Before turning the corner he took a moment to muss his hair and untucked his shirt. It wasn't much, but when Hannibal pushed open the shelter door with slumped shoulders and a long face it was enough.

The entrance was dimly lit by a single overhead florescent bulb. To the right it opened into a large cafeteria, the space packed with empty tables and chairs. Behind the long lunch counter came the muted sound of rattling pots and pans. Unseen people were chatting in the kitchen, their voices blending into the backdrop. To the left were a set of elevator doors with out of order signs posted on them. Directly ahead, blocking a long hallway was a small desk at which sat a bored looking guard. Hannibal approached it hesitantly.

"Yes?" the guard asked looking up from his magazine. Hannibal swallowed hard, nervously wringing his hands.

"I lost my job some time ago," Hannibal said softly. The guard nodded and pulled a clipboard from the top drawer of the desk. He rummaged in the clutter for a pen then handed it, and the clipboard, to Hannibal who took it with a questioning look.

"Fill out the form, and one of our councilors will help match you to the services you need," the guard explained.

Hannibal hesitated. Clutching the clipboard he leaned forward and dropped his voice into a rough whisper. "I was, uh, hoping I could see a doctor. Or a nurse. I've had this – "

"Yeah, I don't need to know," the guard said quickly, holding up a hand to stop Hannibal. "We have a nurse. You can speak to her. The line is over there. Fill out the form while you wait okay? Bring me back the pen too."

Hannibal muttered a thanks to the man then walked around the desk and down the hall. Ahead a row of plastic chairs were lined up to the side of a door. The sign hanging on the wall beside the closed door said simply 'nurse' in faded white letters. There were a few other people already seated in the hallway. No one looked at him as he approached. He considered knocking on the door but could hear muffled voices coming from within and took a seat instead.

There was no clock but the hallway did bear a few motivational posters with generic pictures of mountains and oceans. Hannibal turned his wrist up, checking the time on his watch. Impatiently he sucked in a deep breath then exhaled. Beside him a woman wearing several layers of clothing started rocking in her seat. Hannibal looked at his watch again, disappointed the minute hand remained stubbornly where it had been a moment ago.

Exasperation was sinking its claws into Hannibal. The time passed slowly sitting in the hallway. Hannibal hadn't doubted Officer Parkman's tip, but until he got to see who was on the other side of that door doubt would gnaw at him.

A woman passed by, keeping close to the far wall with her head down. She approached the guard and Hannibal watched them both disappear into the cafeteria. With the security desk now vacant he rose slowly from the chair leaving the clipboard and pen behind. The others were finally paying attention to Hannibal as he paced a few steps up and down the hallway to end up in front of the door. He stood before it, hand ready to knock and wondered if he shouldn't just walk in. Before he could make that decision the door opened and an old man emerged, a toothless smile on his deeply lined face. Hannibal stepped aside to let him pass. Over one shoulder the man carried a beaten canvas bag from which dangled a number of a dirty, threadbare stuffed bears.

"Next," a woman called from within the office. Dodging the old man Hannibal smiled apologetically at the astonished faces of the three sitting in the plastic chairs. Closing the door behind him, Hannibal slipped into the room. A small table was wedged into one corner along with a folding chair. Along the far wall was an old physicians table with a number of duct tape patches on the padded vinyl surface. But Hannibal was focused on the young woman with her back to him.

"Take a seat please," said the blonde standing at the sink washing her hands. Hannibal did as told, perching at the edge of the table without taking his eyes from the woman. She dried her hands on a paper towel then dropped it into the waste basket by the desk.

"Good afternoon, I'm Alice" she asked looking at Hannibal finally. He smiled. It was Rachael Strathmore, though the long chestnut colored hair he expected from the photograph was gone. Her hair was shoulder length and a pale shade of blonde. It didn't exactly suit her Hannibal thought. And though Rachael was smiling back at him, there were dark circles under her green eyes.

She was pulling on a pair of gloves when she asked him, "Are you a new patient?"

"I suppose so," Hannibal said, enjoying the moment. All the frustration and worry of the last several days evaporated. They had finally found the FBI's witness. From here on out, the team's job would be primarily babysitting.

Rachael pulled the stethoscope from around her neck, fitted it into her ears and reached for his wrist. Hannibal gave it willingly and she gently turned back the cuff of his jacket.

"I'm Hannibal Smith," he said as she began taking his pulse. With her fingers gently pressed against his skin her eyes were on her watch. He waited for her to speak but her attention was firmly fixed on her task. "And I'm very happy to meet you. Miss Strathmore."

Her head snapped up, the color draining quickly from her face, and looked at him with naked terror.

"Don't be afraid, I'm here as your friend," Hannibal said quickly. She released his wrist and he took her hands into his own. Almost imperceptibly she shook her head. "Agent Martinez hired me and my men to take you into protective custody until he can locate the mole in his department."

"Protective custody?" Rachael whispered pulling the stethoscope off. The terror faded but she still looked frightened to Hannibal. "Another safe house?"

"Yes, you'll be going to a safe house," Hannibal said. He stood up, letting go of Rachael's hands. "My men are waiting around the corner, I suggest we go now."

Mutely Rachael nodded and Hannibal opened the door leading her into the hallway. The three in the plastic chairs looked on curiously as the pair walked away. She walked nervously with her arms wrapped around her waist, moving quickly to keep up with Hannibal's long strides. The guard was still away from the desk and Hannibal glanced into the cafeteria as they passed. The man was talking with the woman Hannibal had seen in the hallway. When they laughed together and their attention was distracted Hannibal put a hand on Rachael's lower back, ushering her swiftly to the door.

On the street Rachael blinked against the bright day and tugged at Hannibal's sleeve.

"Um, I'd really like to get my stuff," Rachael said pointing at the hotel next door. "Just my clothes and a few things. Please."

"Of course," Hannibal said and let her lead the way into the lobby of the hotel. His initial impression of the establishment had been correct. It was tidy but everything seemed to sag with age. The lobby was surprisingly full of people, mostly seniors, seated on a variety of chairs and sofas. They talked amongst themselves but watched as Hannibal and Rachael waited at the elevator.

"It's slow, sorry," Rachael said offering him an apologetic smile.

"No problem," Hannibal said, keeping his eyes on the front doors. Rachael watched him for a moment.

"So, uh – how many men are with you?" she asked. The elevator doors jerked opened. Hannibal followed her into the car, his nose wrinkling against the musty air. She pressed the button for the fifth floor.

"Three others," Hannibal said. The car began its slow, rattling ascent. He looked into her young, frightened face. "You are in very good hands Miss Strathmore. I would – and have – trusted my life to these men on countless occasions."

"Oh," Rachael said, pulling a key from the pocket of her jeans while Hannibal sent a quick text to Face. The doors opened on the fifth floor and Hannibal put a hand out, stopping Rachael. She looked at him peculiarly. He poked his head out first and looked up and down the hall. It was empty, a stretch of crumbling blue plaster walls and threadbare brown carpet. He could hear the sound of a radio playing, muffled by the walls, coming from the end of the hall.

Satisfied, Hannibal stepped aside and let Rachael out. He followed her down the hall and waited as she fitted the key into the lock and opened the door. The small room contained a narrow bed, a television and table with a hotplate. Rachael stood next to the bed looking uncertain.

"I need to use the bathroom," Rachael said looking at the floor. Hannibal nodded and she edged her way to the bathroom, closing the door. The lock clicked into place. Alone, Hannibal looked around the room. It was grim, even if he had known worse. This was the kind of place where people without options clung to what they had. He was pulling his phone from his pocket when the small trashcan next to the television caught his attention.

The sleeve of a shirt was dangling over the rim, but it wasn't the shirt that caught his attention. Slowly Hannibal bent, his hand closing around the cotton-blend shirt and pulling it out of the trash. He dropped the phone back into his pocket to hold the shirt in both hands. It was stained red and Hannibal had seen enough to blood to know when we he was looking it. The blood was dried to the color of rust and he fingered the abstract pattern it made on the cotton.

"Miss Strathmore?" Hannibal called. He looked at the bathroom door, awaiting a response. None came. Still holding the shirt he approached the door and knocked lightly. Rachael hadn't appeared injured but suddenly Hannibal felt that something was out of place.

He knocked harder then tried the knob. "Miss Strathmore!"

Setting his jaw Hannibal threw his shoulder against the door. The cheap wood splintered and popped out of the frame, swinging inward on its hinges. Hannibal stepped into the bathroom, holding a hand out to catch the door on its rebound.

The bathroom was empty.

The sound of the radio was louder now. It was coming from the door directly ahead of him. He swore for not thinking about it earlier, but the bathroom was a shared space between two rooms. Each room had its own door into the bathroom that could be locked from both sides. With the shirt clenched in his fist Hannibal crossed the bathroom and pounded on the other door.

"Miss Strathmore!" he shouted to be heard over the radio playing in the other room. Without waiting for an answer Hannibal grabbed the knob and twisted. It was locked. He stepped back, raised his foot and drove the heel of his boot into the wood. As the wood gave there was a scream from the other side. Hannibal threw the shirt into the sink and pulled the door open.

"GET OUT!"

Hannibal looked quickly around the room, seeing no sign of Rachael. There was an old woman wearing a brocade house coat despite the heat, cowering in the corner of the room. She was clutching a dented kettle in her hands, and though they were shaking she was looking at Hannibal with defiance.

"Where is she?" Hannibal barked. He reached out to the radio on top of the television and turned it off.

"Gone!" the old woman squeaked triumphantly. "Leave her alone! Imma call the police!"

"Which way?" Hannibal asked taking a few steps to the window and looking out. They were on the fifth floor with no way to safety from here.

"I won't tell! You're a bad man, beating on your wife like that, just let her go. Imma call the police!" she said with her head retreating into the folds of papery thin skin like a threatened turtle. Hannibal stared blankly at her, working out what he had just heard. Shaking his head he turned and strode out of the room taking his phone out again. He dialed Face and put the phone to his ear, moving past the elevator and pushing open the door to the fire exit.

Face picked up at the first ring, "Boss, we've got a problem. A couple of men with bad suits just walked into the shelter."

"We've got two problems then, Rachael gave me the slip. Send B.A. and Murdock around back. Meet me in the lobby," Hannibal said then pressed the end call button. He hurried down the stairwell, taking two steps at a time. Now it was a race.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: A 'Random Idea' that crossed my mind, something of a Heroes crossover. Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

**Hide and Seek - Chapter Five**

_**Downtown Los Angeles, CA**_

There was a light knock on the door and Rachael jumped in fright. Beside her, his face a reflection of her of fear, retired tech sergeant Frank Wood gave her hand a gentle pat. The pair looked at each other until a second knock got Frank to his feet. He shuffled across the room which was a mirror image of Rachael's across the hall. Rachael extended one hand to stop him, his name on her lips, when a voice called from other side of the door.

"Frank, it's Rose, open the door!" At the sound of his neighbors urgent request Frank hurried to throw the lock back and yanked the door open. Still clutching her dented kettle Rose hopped inside, moving rather sprightly Rachael thought for a woman pushing eighty. With Rose inside Frank shut and locked the door.

"Well?" Frank asked the old woman impatiently.

"I didn't say a thing," Rose said, punctuating herself with the kettle. Frank leaned back quickly to avoid getting struck with the utensil and slipped carefully around his neighbor to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Good. Uh, honey – just how bad is this ex-husband of yours?" Frank asked Rachael.

"Bad Mister Wood," Rachael said. "So are his friends. I don't think any of them would hesitate to shoot first."

At this Rose harrumphed loudly, drawing her five foot frame to its full height. She extended the kettle and announced, "I should have thumped him good when he turned around! That'd teach a man to go around hitting ladies!"

Frank shook his head. He took Rachael by the arms and met her eyes.

"This place isn't safe for you anymore," he began. Rachael nodded, swallowing hard as she digested the news. "I'm sorry a nice young woman like you met such a horrible man. But you got to run."

"I know," she breathed and Frank released her. At the door Rose had her ear pressed to the wood.

"First," Frank said turning to the small dresser beside the window. He pulled open the top drawer, his arthritic swollen hands diving under the neatly folded shirts. Rachael watched him remove a slender wooden case. When he opened it she hissed sharply, shaking her head as he pulled out a small pistol.

"No, no, no," Rachael said firmly backing away from Frank. He stopped, the gun cradled in his hands.

"Rachael, if your husband is willing –" Frank began and sighed when Rachael shook her head again.

"Never Frank, I will not hurt another person," Rachael said vehemently. She breathed a small measure of relief when Frank put the pistol back into its case.

"How are we going to get her outta here?" Rose asked sharply.

"There's the fire escape," Rachael suggested looking from Rose to Frank for approval. The old man's brows furrowed deeply. He thought for a moment then shook his head and gave a grunt. The expression worried Rachael who nervously asked, "What?"

"I'm sure he or one of his friends is keeping an eye on the front doors," Frank said. Rachael's shoulders slumped.

"Yes, probably. Probably the alley too," Rose added.

"It's too dangerous to stay here," Rachael said. "They will search this place room by room. I know they will."

Rose chuckled. Frank turned a curious gaze to his neighbor. She winked at him and met Rachael's puzzled face. "You up for a little adventure Rachael?"

"Rose, what are you thinking?" Frank asked slowly with a cautious tone. Rachael saw the look in his face and the wide grin on Rose's and felt a flutter of anxiety.

"There's an old laundry chute, most of the doors are boarded up, but up here, it's just been hidden by a picture," Rose said. She pointed in Rachael's direction with the kettle. "Our girl here is thin enough, she could slide down, land in the basement and slip out from here without anyone the wiser."

"And how do we know there's something there to catch her fall?" Frank asked.

"Last time I looked there was a cart with sheets," Rose said and Rachael had a feeling she was trying to convince herself the memory was accurate.

"Okay, but – how do I get out of the basement?" Rachael asked.

"That will be a bit tricky; you'll have to go back up to the first floor and down the hall. Miss Cooke moved out of her room, it's still empty. You can climb out her bathroom window," Rose said in a rush of excitement. Rachael looked to Frank who shrugged.

"Alright, it's worth a shot," Rachael sighed.

._._.

Sure enough, when Frank pulled the framed watercolor from the wall, there was a door for the laundry chute. The residential hotel hadn't used the chute system in years. Covered for all that time the paint and wood looked a little fresher where it had been hidden by the cheap painting. Rachael grasped the knob and pulled the door down. The musty smell from within the chute wrinkled Rachael's nose. She looked over her shoulder for reassurance from Frank and Rose.

"Good luck honey," Rose said, embracing Rachael with surprising fierceness.

"Be careful," Frank said holding the door while Rachael opened the folding chair they'd brought from his apartment. She stood on the chair, and feeling a strange mixture of stupidity and apprehension, and climbed awkwardly into the laundry chute.

._._.

Frank and Rose stood side by side, staring at the door and listening for a scream that never came. There had been a muffled series of fading thumps and then an anti-climactic silence. After a moment Frank turned to Rose.

"When was the last time you looked in the basement?" he asked.

"When I lost Tiger," she said without taking her eyes from the door.

"Didn't your cat die?"

"That he did, poor Tiger. Ate the rat poison the manager put out in the basement."

Frank nodded and fell silent. After a moment he looked at his neighbor. "When did that happen?"

"Last winter."

._._.

Rose's memory had been correct and Rachael fell into a cart of forgotten bed sheets and towels, stirring up a cloud of dust. Coughing Rachael sat up and hauled herself over the edge of the cart where she tumbled weak-kneed onto the bare concrete. The laundry chute had been uncomfortably tight, Rachael had worried the whole way down she'd become lodged in the darkness.

Despite her desire to stay there on the floor Rachael forced herself up and she used the cart to get back onto her feet. She didn't want to run again, she was horribly exhausted and wanted to stay there in the dimly lit basement with its soothing silence. But that man, Smith was probably still lurking in the building, and as long as Rachael was there people like Rose and Frank were danger.

There were windows in the basement, three of them the size of cereal boxes and covered with stout iron bars. Rachael patted at the dust clinging to her shirt and moved quickly up the stairs. At the top she put her ear to the door first and strained to hear something more than the muffled sounds of a television. After a moment she braved opening it. Cautiously peering into the hallway Rachael saw she had a chance, Smith was mingling among the people in the lobby, talking to them and showing a picture she assumed was of her. Taking a deep breath Rachael slipped out of the basement.

._._.

"Gracias," Face said, slipping Rachael's photograph back into his pocket with frustration.

"De nada," the old man said returning his attention to the bowl of soup before him. Face left the common kitchen with its reek of pine-scented cleanser. His disappointment lifted as he came into the hallway to see Rachael herself walking in the opposite direction. Soundlessly Face approached her, quickly closing the distance between them.

"Don't panic," Face breathed in her ear, putting one hand over her mouth and stifling her frightened scream. "We're here for your protection. There are two men searching the shelter for you as we speak."

Rachael was rigid and Face wasn't entirely sure she understood the situation. He took a breath, "If I take my hand away do you promise not to scream?"

She nodded, but as took his hand away she brought her knee up and slammed her foot into his insole. Surprised Face grunted and sagged at the knee taking his weight off the injured foot. Rachael leapt away and he reached out, missing her by a fraction only to brush the cotton of her tee with his fingers.

"Damnit," he hissed hoping on his good foot as Rachael sprinted down the length of the hall, barely slowly as she slammed her weight against the emergency exit. He set off after her, bellowing over his shoulder for Hannibal. Rachael skidded to a stop in the threshold, clinging to the alley door as she got a look at B.A. and Murdock. Face swore as they stared at her in surprise and the second they waited before springing into action was just long enough. Stepping back into the hallway Rachael pulled the door shut with her leaving his teammates in the alley.

"Miss Strathmore!" Hannibal called coming into the hallway at a jog. She turned at the sound of her name, her back against the door, and looked from Face to Hannibal with wild eyes. Face stepped to one side letting Hannibal join him. "It is important that you trust us. There are men already here, looking for you."

Rachael shook her head.

"You don't have a choice," Face said trying to keep his tone gentle, but his foot still throbbed.

"Please, just go," Rachael said in a shaking voice. "It's safer for you."

"Miss Strathmore, we're quite used to danger," Hannibal said assured her. At the lobby doors Rachael saw the backlit figures that had become part of her recurring memories. Face followed her gaze and nudged Hannibal. Someone at the shelter had directed the goons next door.

"Time to go," Face said with a smile, advancing on Rachael and taking her firmly by the arm. Hannibal pushed open the door and they slipped quietly into the alley.

"We need to get moving," Hannibal said grimly, rounding the van and sliding into the front seat. Still holding Rachael by the arm, Face propelled her towards the backdoor. Murdock hurried to slide the door open for them. He gave the nurse a crooked grin as she stepped inside then looked at Face.

"Hey, Faceman – you limping?"


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: A 'Random Idea' that crossed my mind, something of a Heroes crossover. Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

**Hide and Seek - Chapter Six**

_**Downtown Los Angeles, CA**_

"Well, Miss Strathmore," Hannibal began turning in his seat to face his charge. The hotel and shelter dropped out of sight as they merged onto the I-10. "You have been quite difficult to catch up with."

"Thank you," Rachael said from the back seat, though it sounded more like a question as she looked uncertainly around. The van swayed gently as B.A. navigated downtown Los Angeles traffic with a heavy foot on the accelerator. Hannibal chuckled drily and she snapped her attention onto him with curious eyes.

"It wasn't a compliment, you were just lucky. And if I'm right it seems your luck had run out back there," Hannibal said. He reached into a pocket and came away with a cigar.

"We found you in time," Hannibal added referring pointedly to the men who had arrived at the shelter on their heels. "I doubt your disguise would have fooled them for long. Besides you're not really suited for blonde."

Rachael blushed under Hannibal's grin. She reached up, slipping her fingers into the blonde hair and pushed it away from her temple. The wig slipped off and from beneath it, the chestnut locks he'd been expecting tumbled out. Self-consciously Rachael shook out her hair. She glanced at the wig in her lap and shrugged saying, "It was my neighbors idea, she thought I'd stand a better chance of not being recognized."

"This would be the same neighbor who thought I was your abusive husband?" Hannibal asked gesturing with the unlit cigar. Face and Murdock looked sharply at Rachael who turned a deeper shade of red.

"Not my idea," Rachael said quickly with her attention firmly on the floor of the van, "Besides, just who are all of you, and how did you find me anyways?"

"I'm sorry, let me introduce my team – you've met Templeton Peck, also known as Face," Hannibal said to which Face flashed Rachael a smile. She glanced guiltily in his direction, her gaze flickering to the foot she'd injured. Lighting his cigar Hannibal continued. "At the wheel is B.A. Baracus."

"You know I ain't crazy 'about you smoking in here Hannibal," B.A. said with a meaningful look in the direction of the offending cigar.

"And next to you is Howling Mad Murdock," Hannibal finished, putting the passenger window down. Rachael looked to the man sitting beside her. He leaned in quickly frightening her with the unexpected action. She shied away from the man.

"Don't worry, I'm only mad part of the time," Murdock assured her with a crooked grin.

"Too late," Rachael whispered as she shrunk further away from Murdock.

"It was the cop who helped you out after the shooting at Mann Theater," Hannibal said around the cigar in his mouth. Rachael turned to him though she carefully kept her distance from the grinning Murdock.

"Wait. What? Matt told you?" she asked.

"Officer Parkman gave us the address of that shelter," Hannibal confirmed.

"Why didn't you say that back there?" Rachael asked with exasperation. It wasn't a reaction Hannibal had expected. She must have seen that in his face because she went on to quickly explain, "If Matt – trusted you enough to tell you where to find me, then you should have said so."

"The two guys who dropped in on the shelter might have gotten that address from Parkman," Murdock pointed out. Rachael shook her head strongly, glancing at him.

"Not a chance. Not if they're intentions weren't honest," Rachael said. Hannibal saw the determined lift of her chin and decided not to press the issue. She obviously trusted Parkman and there was no reason to force her to admit the possibility that he had trusted the wrong people. "But, why all of you? Why did Agent Martinez call you?"

"This is sort of our specialty," Face said in a vague, dismissive tone.

"So, you're body guards then?" Rachael pushed.

"We're ex-military Miss Strathmore. And your situation is not unfamiliar to us, Agent Martinez hired us because we will see to it that you remain safe until he catches his mole," Hannibal replied.

"Please, Rachael will be fine," she said softly. "So, do you have a plan then?"

._._.

_**Venice Beach, CA**_

Traffic on the westbound 10 had been surprisingly light, which gave Face little time for complaining about Hannibal's plan. His beachside condo was going be Rachael's safe house. That alone would put a crimp in Face's efforts to secure the affection of the new interior designer hired by the developers. A candle-lit dinner had been planned for Friday night just for that purpose. Face thought about the champagne chilling in the fridge with regret. But Hannibal's plan also consisted of the team taking it in shifts to babysit the witness. Which meant another person would be underfoot until it was safe to hand Rachael back to the FBI. Face resigned himself to losing the designer.

"Rachael, your room is through that door," Hannibal said, with a gesture in the direction of what had been Face's weight room. Face didn't want to look, but stepped across the hall and opened the door.

"How pleasant," Face chirped looking at his boss with a forced, plastic smile. Hannibal grinned back at him. The room was furnished with a simply and the overall effect was like a mediocre hotel. It was agreeable enough, even if his Bowflex was nowhere in sight. Rachael was peering into the room, standing on tiptoe to see over the men. He turned to her, "Let me finish the tour."

Rachael followed him, nodding absently as he pointed out the obvious - kitchen here, guest bath there, and at the living room they rejoined B.A. and Murdock. The men were lounging on the sofa, and they watched as Rachael headed straight for the balcony. She sighed softly taking in the ocean stretching away to the horizon.

"I didn't think the military paid so well," Rachael said, tearing her gaze from the sapphire waters of the Pacific to look at Face. He was pulling beer from the fridge and pretended not to hear the nurse.

"Tomorrow morning I'm going to call Agent Martinez and let him know that we have his witness," Hannibal said from the sofa. "Rachael, do you have anything you want to pass on to him?"

"No," Rachael said after a long moment of silence. She went to the sofa and sat at the edge, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"What is it Rachael? You can trust us," Murdock said in a gently encouraging tone.

"I'm not certain I want to testify anymore," Rachael said in a voice that was hardly above a whisper. "Three men have died to protect me, and these people won't stop. I don't want to see anyone else hurt, or worse, because of me."

"It won't make a difference to John Ortega if you testify or not, he'll keep sending his people after you. The only way to stop him is to testify," Face pointed out leaving the kitchen with a handful of bottles. He passed beers to his friends and then offered one to Rachael who shook her head. He left hers on the coffee table before taking a seat beside Hannibal.

"Those men died so you could put a bad man away," B.A. added to which Rachael bit her lip sharply.

"At the safe house, the men who – tried, to kill me, they were friends with those agents. One asked about their families then shot them like, like it was nothing! They didn't even have time to reach for their weapons."

"You've seen some horrible things Rachael, and I understand you're scared. But your testimony can put end to it," Hannibal said. She gave something that resembled a nod, never lifting her gaze from the floor. Hannibal glanced sidelong to Face. There passed between the men an entire conversation in that look. Hannibal put his beer down and rose slowly to his feet. "Rachael, perhaps a nights rest will help you clear your mind. You've been short on sleep lately, I'm sure."

Rachael sighed gratefully and nodded, getting wearily to her feet.

"Goodnight Rachael," Hannibal said as she left, disappearing into the hall. The men waited in silence until they heard her door click shut.

"What do we do if she doesn't want to testify?" Murdock asked. Hannibal sat down again taking a moment to consider the question.

"I don't think we'll have to worry about that Captain," he said. "Right now, she's just scared and exhausted."

"Still Hannibal, if she makes the choice …" Face trailed off. He fingered the mouth of his beer bottle as they each considered Rachael's long-term prospects if she failed to testify.

"Then it's our job to make sure she wants to testify," Hannibal sighed.


End file.
